Italian Jesuits in Maryland : a clash of theological cultures

2007·5.4 MB·English

by  McKevitt, Gerald

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2013
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Maryland
Italian Jesuits in
A
Clash of Theological Cultures
Gerald McKevitt,
L. SJ.
BX3701 .388
v.39:no,1(2007:spring)
04/03/2007
Current Periodicals
39/1 • SPRING 2007
THE SEMINAR ON JESUIT SPIRITUALITY
The Seminar is composed of a number of Jesuits appointed from their provinces in the
United States.
It concerns itself with topics pertaining to the spiritual doctrine and practice of
Jesuits, especially United States Jesuits, and communicates the results to the members of
the provinces through its pubHcation, STUDIES IN THE SPIRITUALITY OF JESUITS. This is
done in the spirit of Vatican II's recommendation that reUgious institutes recapture the
original inspiration of their founders and adapt it to the circumstances of modern times.
The Seminar welcomes reactions or comments in regard to the material that it pubUshes.
The Seminar focuses its direct attention on the life and work of the Jesuits of
the United States. The issues treated may be common also to Jesuits of other regions, to
other priests, reUgious, and laity, to both men and women. Hence, the journal, while
meant especially for American Jesuits, is not exclusively for them. Others who may find
it helpful are cordially welcome to make use of it.
CURRENT MEMBERS OF THE SEMINAR
James W. Bernauer, S.J., teaches philosophy at Boston College, Chestnut Hill, Mass.
(2004).
Richard A. Blake, S.J., is chairman of the Seminar and editor of STUDIES; he teaches film
studies at Boston College, Chestnut Hill, Mass. (2002).
James T. Bretzke, S.J., teaches theology at the University of San Francisco, San Fran-
cisco, Cal. (2006)
Patrick J. Howell, S.J., is dean of the School of Theology and Ministry at Seattle Univer-
sity, Seattle, Wash. (2006)
T. Frank Kennedy, S.J., teaches music and is director of the Jesuit Institute at Boston
College, Chestnut Hill, Mass. (2004).
Mark S. Massa, S.J., teaches theology and is director of the American CathoHc Studies
Program at Fordham University, Bronx, N. Y. (2006)
Thomas Massaro, S.J., teaches moral theology at Weston Jesuit School of Theology,
Cambridge, Mass. (2006)
Gerald L. McKevitt, S.J., teaches history at Santa Clara University, Santa Ckra, Cal.
(2005).
Wnham E. Reiser, S.J., teaches theology at the College of the Holy Cross, Worcester,
Mass. (2004).
PhiHp J. Rosato, S.J., is senior fellow at the Woodstock Theological Center, Washington,
D.C. (2005)
Thomas L Schubeck, S.J., teaches social ethics at John Carroll University, University
Heights, Ohio (2004).
The opinions expressed in STUDIES are those of the individual authors thereof.
Parentheses designate year of entry as a Seminar member.
©
Copyright 2007 and pubUshed by the Seminar on Jesuit SpirituaUty
Publication Office Editorial Office
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Maryland
Italian Jesuits in
A
Clash Theological Cultures
of
Gerald L. McKevitt, S.J.
studies in the spirituality of JESUITS
39/1 SPRING 2007
•

The first word
. . .
Why
is it our elders took such great fascination in recalHng exactly
where they were when the news of Pearl Harbor first came over the radio?
It's really an odd topic of conversation, but it came up often. Perhaps my
own point of view was a bit skewed, since at the time I was too busy
pushing soggy animal crackers into my face to pay much attention to news
bulletins on the radio. I wonder if psychologists have a term like "geo-
graphic memory."
In the natural flow of time, we all become elders and invariably
geographic memory keeps popping through the surface, overpowering other
accidentals of long-past experiences. I was standing at the top of the red-
my
brick stoop of our family's semi-attached house, holding mother's
hand, when Francine Hayman, pigtails to the breeze, came screeching
down the middle of the street, looking like a child Barbra Streisand and
sounding like an amphetamine-crazed Cassandra. In the best Hebraio-
Hibernian tradition of taking delight in sharing bad news, she proclaimed
A
that President Roosevelt was dead. few weeks later, I was sitting in the
back of my first-grade classroom, when one of those horrid "perfect little
girls" from the third grade interrupted class, passed a note to sister, and
then after a whispered exchange announced to the class that it was V-E
Day. I didn't know what V-E Day meant, but sister sent us all home to
celebrate. History I forget; holidays I remember.
As a first-year regent I was chatting on a staircase at Xavier High
School between classes when a senior from my Greek class told me that
President Kennedy had been shot. At the time, sadist jokes were the staple
of high-school wits, and I waited for some sick punch line to a joke that
never came. More recently, I stopped offfor a cup of coffee at St. Mary's
at Boston College between my nine o'clock class and office hours. It was a
glorious September morning in New England, and I couldn't understand
why everyone looked so glum. I stood by the sink while they muttered
something about planes and the World Trade Center in New York.
Most ofyou have no doubt already matched your recollections with
mine. But here's a bit of nostalgic geography that's a bit idiosyncratic. I'd
just entered the periodical room at America House late one afternoon in
1973 when another young associate editor looked up from his magazine
and told me that Woodstock had been closed. No, of course, that decision
does not rank in importance with those other events, not by a long shot,
but it did hit close to home as a kind of personal trauma. I can still recon-
struct a composition of place for that conversation as though it took place
just yesterday.
The America community then included several Woodstock alumni.
When we gathered later that evening, amazement rather than anger
seemed to set the tone. As the weeks passed, disbelief turned to sadness. It
was like the sudden death of a loved one. How could the American provin-
How
cials have reached this conclusion? could Father Arrupe have been
persuaded to go along? Over the few years that separated the events, I had
become reconciled to the closing of my beloved Brooklyn Prep, and had
even come to appreciate the wisdom and courage of the policy. But Wood-
stock was something else. It was a special place, the very antithesis of the
medieval Kingdom of Two Sicilies described by Jerry McKevitt in this
issue of Studies, and yet it was subject to yet another clash of cultures
that eventually led to its implosion.
Why was it special for those of us who closed the seminary in
Maryland and prepared for the move to Manhattan? Consider the context.
Most of the freshman class of 1966 had been exposed to philosophy on
another hilltop, this one barren rather than wooded, in Westchester Coun-
ty, fifty miles and several centuries removed from New York City. Cultur-
ally, this was very close to the Woodstock that Jerry describes in his arti-
cle, from its Neo-Thomism to its dehumanizing daily order. After regency
in the major cities of the East Coast, most of us feared more of the same
when we returned to studies. The scattered children of Israel gathered
from various summer projects for a few days' villa at Blue Ridge Summit,
Pennsylvania, than which nothing remoter could be conceived.
The buses to Woodstock passed through the undulating farm coun-
try of central Maryland, rattled over the plank bridge across the Patapsco,
and finally glided around the front of the College, where Black Angus
chomped meditatively on the lawn. Someone explained that these were the
faculty at lunch. The building was imposing, ominous; the rooms under
the roof small and Spartan, the heat oppressive. Here we were to enjoy the
cultural life of the twin cities of Granite and Daniel, suburbs of greater
metropolitan Woodstock. To say we were depressed would ascribe a level
of hilarity to the moment that it did not deserve. We were back in the
nineteenth-century manor house.
First impressions can be desperately deceiving, and in this case they
certainly were. On the first day, a note went up telling us that because of
the heat, the summer dress code would continue, and when we finally
settled into regular order, those new-fangled clerical shirts would be con-
sidered an acceptable alternative to habits. By second year, informal dress
continued through the year, the meals were all served buffet style. The
rigidities of seminary life, as we recalled them from earlier experiences,
We
were gone. had a far-sighted rector and a considerate, generous minis-
ter who treated us like the adults we were.
IV